


Scenes

by Lint



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/F, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-14 10:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16911357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lint/pseuds/Lint
Summary: Random drabbles I post on Tumblr.





	1. Chapter 1

 

**through the trees**

-

Sabrina doesn't fail to notice.

 

That while Prudence still mocks, still taunts, the cruel intent behind such actions are gone. Though her eyes remain playful, there's a certain respect shining in them now. An acceptance, not begrudged, offered and taken without hesitation.

 

From all three sisters.

 

But it's Prudence herself, that actually makes an effort.

 

Sabrina's eyes open with a start, quickly rising to sit upright and see the girl in question, hovering at the end of her bed. For a moment they simply acknowledge each other curiously, Sabrina as to why she's standing there, and Prudence as to how long it's going to take her to start asking questions.

 

“What are you doing?” Sabrina asks, absently wiping at the sleep in her eyes.

 

Prudence smiles. Not long at all.

 

“Come with me,” is her enigmatic reply. offering a hand which Sabrina only looks upon, but does not take.

 

“Come with you where?”

 

She yawns.

 

“It's the middle of the night.”

 

Prudence remains smiling.

 

“Yes,” she agrees. “It certainly is.”

 

Her fingers beckon.

 

“Come,” she offers, backing away from the bed and toward the door, then repeats herself when Sabrina still doesn't rise from her bed.

 

Sabrina does take a cautious look around the room, all her schoolmates still slumbering peacefully, and her gaze remains a moment on the other two Weird Sisters. Dorcas doesn't stir, though Agatha shifts, arm reaching out for an unseen something before falling back to the mattress.

 

Prudence clears her throat impatiently, still lingering at the door, and Sabrina quickly pulls on her robe to follow. They slip through the halls as quiet as a dormouse, a school of witchcraft still not without its rules, even if the idea of such restrictions amuses her to no end.

 

“Where are we going?” she can't help to ask in a whisper.

 

Prudence glances back to her, offering no answer but yet another smile.

 

“Now where's the fun in telling you?” she does respond after a moment, forging ahead and tugging on Sabrina's hand.

 

They're out a door Sabrina's never bothered to notice, down a hall she's never been, goosebumps rising with a night chill she wasn't prepared for. Bare feet crunch along dead leaves, Prudence now guiding them into the woods, with still no explanation as to why forthcoming.

 

Sabrina remains game for awhile, silently following and keeping any remaining queries to herself, but after what must be fifteen minutes she pulls her hand away.

 

“This isn't some kind of attempt at harrowing me again is it?” she can't help to question. “Because I thought we've moved past that.”

 

The ever present smile isn't an answer, as Sabrina places hands upon her hips, tilting her head awaiting one.

 

“If that were my intent,” Prudence finally gives. “My sisters would be here as well.”

 

She waves and empty hand about.

 

“As you can see, they are not.”

 

“Then what are we-”

 

“Always so curious,” Prudence interrupts. “No wonder your familiar is a cat.”

 

Sabrina scoffs.

 

“Forgive my impertinence,” she replies. “But you drag me out here, acting all cagey, and I just want to kno-”

 

“Hush,” Prudence cuts her off again, stepping forward and actually placing a finger onto Sabrina's lips. “And close your eyes.”

 

Sabrina's eyes widen rather than shut, as she readies for a scathing rebuttal, but Prudence pushes closer and her train of thought suddenly derails.

 

“Indulge me,” she requests. “Close your eyes. Listen.”

 

Sabrina hesitates a few seconds more, but does let her eyes fall closed, listening as requested. It doesn't take but a moment to register, wind blowing through the tree branches, yet somehow different from her favorite sound in the whole world. Almost harmonious. Like a song being played just for her. Hair rise on the back of her neck, euphoria spreading through her insides, as she begins to sway with the music.

 

Prudence reaching up to play with the ends of her hair, pulls Sabrina's attention back to her, the taller girl looking down at her so very pleased with herself.

 

“How did you know?” Sabrina asks.

 

“Gleamed it off those friends of yours,” she answers. “The boy.”

 

“Harvey.”

 

“Yes,” Prudence accepts. “Harvey.”

 

Her fingers still toy with Sabrina's hair.

 

“Do you like it?”

 

Prudence nods.

 

“A few degrees starker than mine,” she gives. “But lovely just the same.”

 

Her fingers drop from Sabrina's hair, feather light spider legs down her neck, before moving to dance across her shoulders.

 

“Lucifer,” Prudence states in calm awe. “You'd never think it to look at you.”

 

Sabrina's eyebrow lifts curiously.

 

“All that power,” she goes on. “In such a pretty little package.”

 

Sabrina's toes curl with the compliment, hands moving to clasp around Prudence's wrists, knowing what's about to happen and letting it. The kiss is softer than she expected, however, never anticipating the witch to be capable of anything gentle. Prudence pulls back, even more pleased with herself that Sabrina automatically leans back in for more, remaining close as she lets her arms cross just behind Sabrina's neck.

 

“Why?”

 

“Always so full of questions,” Prudence teases, leaning down to nip at her lips, before pulling back again. “Maybe I just wanted to.”

 

“No,” Sabrina detracts. “Why were you so mean before. If this is what you... I mean, if you liked liked me that way.”

 

Prudence chuckles softly.

 

“What is it mortal do?” she asks. “Tease the ones they like?”

 

“And what do witches do?”

 

Prudence leans down again, lips tickling along Sabrina's ear.

 

“Oh my dear girl,” she begins, arms wrapping around Sabrina as if she plans to devour her. “We _torment_.”

 

/\

 

**these riddles you burn**

-

The bonfire flickers, Sabrina's attention focused on the flames, and not Prudence's conversation. Which she's bound to get called out on, if she doesn't start listening soon, but there's the strangest desire to reach her hand out. She doesn't of course, not wanting to test witch healing so early into the night, but the curiosity cannot be helped.

 

The Dark Lord once told her, foaming at the mouth as he slipped into Principal Hawthorne's skin, that all mortal flesh must burn. She wonders now, giving up that part of her, if her flesh would indeed burn be it hell fire or the one before her.

 

The fire snaps and cracks as Sabrina reaches a hand toward it, then both Agatha and Dorcas laugh at something Prudence has said, and like predicted the center of attention realizes that Sabrina has not been paying her any.

 

“Thoughts Sabrina?” she questions sarcastically.

 

Quickly rescinding her hand, Sabrina looks across the bonfire to awaiting eyes from all three sisters.

 

“I'm sorry,” she apologizes. “What were you saying?”

 

A look is exchanged by all three, before focused shifts back to her.

 

“Nothing so important it bares repeating,” Prudence assures. “Right Sisters?”

 

“Right,” they echo.

 

Prudence rises from her perch upon a fallen log, stepping toward the fire with hands on her hips.

 

“But that doesn't mean you're not terribly rude for ignoring me regardless.”

 

Sabrina's eyes focus back on the flames.

 

“Sorry,” she says again. “I was just thinking.”

 

“Whatever about?”

 

Sabrina rises from her own log, taking a step toward the fire herself.

 

“The Dark Lord once told me-”

 

“The Dark Lord,” Agatha pipes up.

 

“Spoke to you?” Dorcas finishes for her.

 

Prudence offers nothing but a widening of her eyes.

 

“It was a warning,” Sabrina clarifies, ignoring the shock in their tones. “That all mortal flesh must burn.”

 

The Sisters exchange a look once more.

 

“He speaks the truth,” Prudence assures.

 

Sabrina reaches her hand out again, heat radiating into her palm, but doesn't dare to touch just yet.

 

“So you say,” Sabrina replies, twirling her fingers. “But it makes me wonder, why does witch flesh burn at all?”

 

Prudence's brows furrow, but she doesn't offer an answer. Neither do Agatha or Dorcas.

 

“He favors us,” Sabrina goes on. “With power. With immortality. But why would he allow this fickle little thing to harm us?”

 

Her hand moves closer.

 

“Unless it's penance. For failure. For capture.”

 

Prudence moves to round the fire pit when realizing what Sabrina means to do, but does not manage to stop her in time, hand plunging into the flames. She stops dead when Sabrina doesn't cry out, looking quickly back to her Sisters, then to Sabrina once more.

 

“Flesh must burn,” Sabrina states, flexing her fingers through the flames. “When it's weak in the Dark Lord's eyes. Witches burn at mortal man's hands, because he allows it.”

 

Prudence grabs Sabrina's wrist to pull her hand away.

 

“Talk like that,” she warns. “Could be considered blasphemous.”

 

Sabrina takes her arm from Prudence's grip, and blows playfully on her fingers, though they are no worse for wear.

 

“Yes,” she agrees. “I imagine truth often coincides with that word.”

 

Agatha and Dorcas have risen from their seats, circling around to also examine Sabrina's unharmed hand.

 

“He favors you,” Agatha offers in explanation, fingernails teasing along the palm.

 

“But why?” asks Dorcas, as she turns the hand over to run her thumb across the knuckles.

 

“He has plans for her,” Prudence announces, before her eyes lock with Sabrina's. “Doesn't he?”

 

“I don't know.”

 

“But you're inclined to believe so?”

 

Sabrina looks back to the fire.

 

“I should be dead,” she offers. “For denying my dark baptism. For not giving him my name. For spitting in the face of all he offered. And everything I've done since to keep my mortal friends safe. I should have died. I should have burned.”

 

She looks back to Prudence.

 

“But here I stand, and not even fire can hurt me.”

 

Prudence has the strangest need to offer comfort, though her insides seethe with jealousy that the Dark Lord would choose Sabrina Spellman of all people to cast his shadow upon. She wants to offer, because it's clear Sabrina needs it, needs some kind of anchor to keep her grounded in a world she can understand.

 

The kiss comes, because words will fail her, and action has always spoken louder.

 

Agatha offers comfort as well, quickly followed by Dorcas.

 

It's decided in that moment, whatever plans the Dark Lord may have for Sabrina, that the Weird Sisters will remain vigilant by her side.

 

/\

 

**in the midnight hour**

-

Sabrina never seems to mind, when Prudence slips into her bed at night, never saying a word before sliding up next to her with a kiss. Sometimes not ever letting Sabrina turn over, pressing into her from behind, arms wrapping around and keeping their positioning awkward for the fun of it. Eventually Sabrina does get to shift, hands cupping Prudence's face between them, giving back as much as she gets.

 

Funny how just a few months ago, she never would have imagined this, when their relationship was nothing but antagonistic. Threats made good by actual harm. Tit for tat. Blood for blood. Even then, there was always the fleeting thought of just how pretty Prudence is. (Especially when scrubbing her back in a buttermilk bath, the moment ruined only by referenced cannibalism.)

 

One of Prudence's hands tucks under Sabrina's knee, pulling it across her own leg, a sharp intake of breath her only response as Prudence pushes further between her legs.

 

“Mmm,” Sabrina hums. “Pru... Prudence...”

 

Prudence groans, but pulls away, the back of her fingers caressing Sabrina's cheek.

 

“What is it?” she asks. “Are we moving too fast?”

 

Sabrina shakes her head.

 

“Uh uh” she's quick to insist. “I just, it feels like we're being watched.”

 

Prudence head lifts up then, neck craning to look around the room, and chuckling softly that Agatha and Dorcas are indeed watching them.

 

“Just the Sisters,” she sighs dismissively. “Though they hardly count as an audience.”

 

Sabrina pushes up on her elbows to get a better view, and sure enough, there they are sitting upright in their beds enjoying the show. She looks back to Prudence.

 

“Are they going to keep watching?”

 

Prudence grins.

 

“Well I would invite them to join,” she teases. “But I know you are not ready for that.”

 

Sabrina doesn't reply, looking back to Agatha and Dorcas, who have suddenly appeared on the edge of the bed.

 

“Or are you?” Prudence asks, head turning to greet her sisters, then back to press a lingering kiss on Sabrina's cheek. “It's your choice, darling. We won't press.”

 

-

 

“Are you alright Sabrina?” Nick asks the next morning at breakfast. “You look a little flushed.”

 

It takes all the willpower she has not to drop her fork onto the tray, keeping her gaze focused on a barely eaten meal.

 

“One could call it a glow,” Prudence offers, taking a seat next to Sabrina, followed by Agatha and Dorcas. She kisses Sabrina swiftly on the cheek, and goes about eating her breakfast, as do the other two.

 

Nick's focus remains on Sabrina.

 

“Hey,” he tries again. “Are you-”

 

“She's fine,” Prudence answers.

 

“More than fine,” chimes Agatha.

  
Dorcas would give her two cents as well, if not for the food in her mouth.

 

“Oh,” Nick says, suddenly realizing, eyes darting between the four of them. “You, all of you...”

 

Prudence, Agatha, and Dorcas offer smug grins. While Sabrina continues to stare down at her tray.

 

“Hey,” Nick goes on, reaching for her hand. “Did they-”

 

Sabrina pulls her hand back, finally looking up at him, her grin easily matching the Sisters.

 

“Did they what?” she asks. “Take turns ravaging me until the witching hour passed? I don't think that's any of your business, Nick.”

 

Prudence laughs, almost proud, echoed by her sisters.

 

Nick sits up straight, rolling his eyes at being made fun of, but makes no move to leave the table.

 

“I think I liked it better when the four of you hated each other,” he sighs.

 

/\

 

**triangulation**

-

Sabrina sits in the library, curled up on one of the lavish love seats, because a school of witchcraft just couldn't have tables and chairs like every book depository she's ever visited. Not that she's complaining, because the plush purple velvet is really quite comfortable, opposed to a standard wooden chair.

 

There are only a few other students scattered in opposite corners, and Sabrina's eyes lift from her book when Agatha walks in, giving a small smile before focusing back on the page. A few minutes later Agatha joins her, thick leather bound tome in hand, and wordlessly loops her arm with Sabrina's.

-

They don't greet each other, simply focusing on the texts they came to study, but Sabrina finds herself distracted with the way Agatha runs her nail down the length of a page before turning it. A soft hissing scratch coming off the contact, makes the hairs on the back of her neck rise, as her head turns to the girl who probably doesn't even realize she's doing it.

 

“What are you reading?” Sabrina inquires.

 

Agatha engages her with a single brow raised, black lips curling into a smirk. She lifts the book to show Sabrina the spine, but the words are long faded with age, as she squints trying to make them out.

 

“It's the Tardius Mori,” Agatha informs. “Written by a witch who was poisoned by the local magistrate despite passing her trials. He was utterly convinced she was in congress with the Dark Lord, and took it upon himself to ensure justice was found.”

 

Sabrina frowns. Every single story in their history seem to have the same ending.

 

“No need to pout,” Agatha teases. “She got her revenge. Served him up on a plate for her coven's enjoyment.”

 

Sabrina cringes when she realizes the literal connotation. Cannibalism a witch trait she'll never be comfortable with.

 

“But the deed was done, even though she managed to fight the poison off for many years before succumbing, and descending into the Dark Lord's arms. This is the collected work of her journals, detailing every day until her death.”

 

Sabrina looks to the book, intuition striking her.

 

“It's your favorite.”

 

Agatha smiles.

 

“That's right.”

 

“Can I ask why?”

 

She contemplates for a moment.

 

“It's a reminder,” she states. “That nothing in this life is given. You must fight to achieve something so simple as living itself. And even if someone with enough hate in their heart wishes to take that life from you, never let them.”

 

Agatha leans over, pressing a soft but brief kiss against Sabrina's lips.

 

“That you must relish what little joys come your way.”

 

Sabrina smiles, leaning in for another, before they separate and refocus on their studies.

 

-

 

Dead leaves crunch underneath Sabrina's shoes, as she walks along the path, enjoying the crispness of the autumn air. Fading rays of sunlight cast an orange glow against the trees, making strides toward the orb that can never be reached, arms lifting as if to welcome it like an old friend.

 

Hands cover her eyes suddenly, a gasp escaping her throat because she never heard the approach, but catches a faint whiff of honeysuckle.

 

“Dorcas,” she pronounces, to the pleased hum of a correct guess in her ear.

 

“I mean drat,” Dorcas dismisses playfully. “I was sure I didn't make a sound. What gave me away?”

 

Sabrina laughs, reaching up to pull the hands from her eyes, before turning to greet her companion.

 

“If I tell you,” she begins, reaching up to fiddle with the lace of Dorcas' collar. “You'll just mask it and try again.”

 

Dorcas smirks, eyes challenging.

 

“Indeed I would.”

 

She takes takes Sabrina's hand from her collar, twining their fingers, and letting it drop to their sides before pulling her along.

 

“I interrupted your afternoon stroll,” she goes on. “How awfully rude of me.”

 

Sabrina gives her hand a squeeze.

 

“I don't mind,” she assures.

 

They walk in silence for awhile, listening to the sounds of the forest, wind rustling through the trees.

 

“This is my favorite place in the world to be,” Sabrina offers.

 

“Spoken like a true witch,” Dorcas replies. “The woods are sanctuary. Ironic, considering how many of us have died here.”

 

Sabrina's head snaps to her.

 

“Morbid.”

 

Dorcas laughs free and clear.

 

“Am I ruining the moment?” she asks. “My sincerest apologies.”

 

She pulls on Sabrina's hand again, getting her to twirl around, until her own laughter follows. It turns into a little dance, as if they had a bonfire to call to the Dark Lord around, frolicking among fallen branches and leaves. A stray beam of sunlight splits between the trees, catching Sabrina's still new silver strands, in a way that stops Dorcas cold.

 

“What?” Sabrina questions when noticing she suddenly dances alone.

 

“Nothing,” Dorcas is quick to respond. “It's just...

 

She steps closer, taking Sabrina's face between her hands and kissing her soundly.

 

“You're beautiful,” she offers softly.

 

Sabrina's lips curl into a smile.

 

“Why Dorcas,” she teases. “You're a marshmallow.”

 

Dorcas' brow furrows.

 

“I have no idea what that means.”

 

Sabrina kisses her again.

 

“Nothing bad,” she insists. “Nothing bad at all.”

 

-

 

Pulling the headband from her hair, Sabrina sighs with the weight of the day finally leaving her, getting ready for bed in the changing from of their dormitory. She's rubbing a kink from her neck, when Prudence's reflection suddenly joins hers in the mirror, back from her latest stay at Father Blackwood's estate.

 

She feigns no pretense about being pleased to see her, turning quickly on her heels, and moving the two steps necessary to be taken in her arms. Sabrina's face rests firmly against Prudence's chest, who mewls with pleasure at being embraced so fondly.

 

“Dare I say you missed me?” she teases.

 

Sabrina doesn't respond with words, preferring to nod against her.

 

“It's been two days,” she dispels. “Do I really have you so smitten?”

 

“Two and a half,” Sabrina replies softly.

 

Prudence's hand moves to just under Sabrina's chin, tilting her head up.

 

“I like you all eager,” she states, just before placing both hands onto Sabrina's hips, lifting her up and propelling them across the room.

 

A low gasps escapes Sabrina's throat, when she's plopped onto the counter in front of the mirror, before Prudence kisses the rest of the air from her lungs.

 

“But what of my Sisters?” she asks between kisses. “Were they not enough to keep you company?”

 

Sabrina's arms go around Prudence's neck.

 

“They were,” she says. “They are. But-”

 

Prudence looks ever so pleased with herself.

 

“But they aren't me.”

 

Sabrina shakes her head, as Prudence trails kisses down her neck.

 

“I do,” she grins, tongue licking along a pulse point. “Have you so smitten.”

 

Sabrina hums, legs wrapping around Prudence's waist.

 

“Tell me.”

 

“You do,” she assures easily. “You really do.”

 

Prudence pulls back, causing Sabrina to groan with disappointment, with a smug grin on her face.

 

“My bed tonight,” she says. “Just the two of us.”

 

Sabrina's thoughts immediately shift to Agatha and Dorcas.

 

“But what about-”

 

“They'll understand,” Prudence informs. “And if they don't-”

 

She kisses Sabrina soundly.

 

“I'll make them.”

 

/\

 

**let the right one in**

-

A gust of wind sends a flurry of leaves right toward their faces, Sabrina and Dorcas squealing as they throw their hands up in defense, laughter echoing carrying with the air throughout the trees. It's a warm spring afternoon, and all Dorcas had said when asking Sabrina to accompany her, was that she wanted to show her something.

 

Such vague request piqued the teenage witch's curiosity and, as she had no other plans, accepted without hesitation. Dorcas holds her hand easily, guiding them along, the path they take one Sabrina is not really familiar with. Much more flush with other flora than she's seen before, almost as if they've stumbled onto someone's garden hidden in the woods.

 

Coming into a clearing, the sun's reflection shining off a large pane of glass, pulls Sabrina's attention to a greenhouse that looks as if it's a relic of another time. All wrought iron and rotundas, that very well may be an actual relic, with the age the structure shows. Dorcas is watching her carefully, like any reaction to this place, is in itself about her.

 

“Is this yours?” Sabrina asks.

  
Dorcas nods.

 

“Can we go inside?”

 

Dorcas smiles, like she was waiting for the question to be asked, then steps to the door and whispers something Sabrina can't quite hear. Protection spell, she assumes. No one is allowed in unless Dorcas wants them there.

 

Sabrina steps inside and pulls at the lace of her collar, with the sudden increase in temperature, then nearly coughs against the wafts of several strong aromas the plants give off. She recognizes a few, from all her time helping Aunt Hilda tend to the garden at home. Rosemary, thyme, and lavender. Sweet basil, dandelion, and ginseng. Hazel, jimson weed, and lilac.

 

“You grew all of this?” Sabrina asks, bending down to the lilac and inhaling deeply.

 

“I did,” Dorcas confirms.

 

Sabrina turns to her with a smile.

 

“Is this where you sneak off too after choir practice?” she asks. “All those afternoon walks?”

 

If she didn't know better, Sabrina could swear Dorcas was blushing, the reveal of a secret no matter how small bringing about insecurities.

 

“Amazing,” Sabrina offers, turning about to look some more. Noting a few garden boxes toward the back, kept purposely separate from the rest. Hemlock, belladonna, and black hellebore. Poison sometimes necessary in practicality. “You're amazing.”

 

Dorcas is definitely blushing now, but she masks it quickly, tending to a plant Sabrina doesn't recognize. Sabrina moves closer, smirking at how Dorcas watches her movement from the corner of her eye, and places a kiss on the redhead's cheek.

 

“I know your other secret too.”

 

Dorcas' eyes widen, but she doesn't turn her head, the implications varied and many.

 

“Why you always smell like honeysuckle,” Sabrina clarifies, waving a hand at the plant that clings to the glass throughout the greenhouse, growing more naturally than the others. “It's everywhere.”

 

Dorcas finally turns to her.

 

“Protection,” she states, though her eyes are on Sabrina's lips.

 

“From intruders?” Sabrina asks. “Surely.”

 

Her finger goes under Dorcas' chin, leaning in to kiss her properly.

 

“But Dorcas, what's going to protect you from me?”

 

-

 

The bell above the door chimes, as Agatha enters the shop with Sabrina in tow, who immediately scrunches her nose against the harsh stagnant smell. The only light source is a few torches placed a strategic distance away from the dozens of shelves lined with books, which Sabrina can't help to question just how someone can regard a book for purchase without actually getting a good look at it.

 

There's a gleam in Agatha's eye, that Sabrina has only ever seen in the library at the Academy, but somehow it seems more intense here. Like she wants to devour each and every tome within, because there are no restrictions, such as a school with rules.

 

Sabrina looks on quietly, as Agatha offers a polite wave at the merchant behind the counter, who nods in return before going back to the papers he was scribbling upon with a quill.

 

“Do you know him?” Sabrina asks in a hushed voice, even though this isn't technically a library, feeling the need to speak in soft tones.

 

“Humphrey the shop keep,” Agatha informs, as she heads to a shelf in the corner, running her fingers along the spines of several books. “We have a kind of kinship when it comes to books.”

 

Sabrina accepts this new information with a nod, tailing Agatha as she moves from shelf to shelf.

 

“Are you looking for something in particular?” she inquires after the third pass, and Agatha has yet to actually pull out a book to look at.

 

“No,” Agatha answers, eyes following her fingernails from title to title. “But sometimes one just speaks to me.”

 

“Interesting way to shop,” Sabrina comments.

 

Agatha turns to her, expression completely serious.

 

“It's the only way.”

 

Sabrina chuckles, and points in a random direction.

 

“Then I'm just going to-”

 

“Off you go,” Agatha interrupts with a flutter of her hand.

 

Sabrina circles a few shelves, but nothing really catches her eye, until she sees her own last name printed on one of the books. Ignatius Spellman, author of something called _Swift Incantations and Defense Magicks_ , written in a kind of middle English she can't fully understand. She wonders if Zelda or Hilda have ever heard of him, tucking the book under her arm, fully intending to buy it after finding Agatha.

 

When she does, the girl is sitting in a grand leather chair perched in front of a fire place, with a stack of books at her feet and one in her hand.

 

“Are you going to buy all of those?” Sabrina asks as she approaches, pointing at the stack with the tip of her shoe.

 

“Some not all,” Agatha replies, not taking her eyes off the book in hand. “Did you find anything interesting?”

 

Sabrina pulls the book from her arm, offering it toward Agatha who finally looks up, eyes scanning the name as her lips turn up with a smirk.

 

“How serendipitous,” she comments.

 

Sabrina sets the book atop the stack at Agatha's feet, then pulls the one from her hands, before sliding onto Agatha's lap.

 

“Is it why you asked me to come with you?”

 

Agatha's brow furrows.

 

“For some strange reason, I knew this book existed?” she laughs. “No, you silly girl. I asked if you wanted to come with me, because I thought you might enjoy it. Because-”

 

“It's your favorite place in the world?” Sabrina finishes for her.

 

Agatha's head tilts, as if she hadn't expected Sabrina to pick up on that fact.

 

“Yes.”

 

Sabrina leans in for a kiss, one that Agatha has no qualms about reciprocating.

 

“Definitely better than the library,” she states, pulling back to rub her thumb across Agatha's cheek. “No Ms. Hatchet to interrupt.”

 

Agatha nods her agreement, pulling Sabrina back to her for another.

 

-

 

No one would ever think it to look at Prudence. Who stands tall at every moment, speaks with nothing but confidence, and walks every step filled with determination. That she loves being the little spoon, when cuddled up in bed with Sabrina, those rare nights her Sisters do not join them. Or being cradled, with her head against Sabrina's chest, allowing herself this single vulnerability when prying eyes are not there to witness.

 

No, you'd never think it. A young witch whose faith and love are completely devoted to the Dark Lord, can be pushed aside at a moments notice, whenever she catches Sabrina looking at her in any way fond. It's a fools errand, this feeling inside her chest. A curse better inflicted on mortals, because witchcraft has no place for it.

 

Prudence easily forgets these things, when Sabrina sighs in her sleep, and the arm wrapped around her tightens just so. That she has never cared, because no one cared for her. Not in a way that is felt deep within the catacombs of a heart that must be kept black. Emotions that should remain cold.

 

She'll never tell anyone, not even her Sisters, how forward she looks to nights spent in this bed. With this girl. Who has done nothing but question, and scrutinize, their entire way of life. It's a secret she keeps well hidden.

 

One Sabrina tells herself she will never let on she knows. Her own power growing by the day. Thoughts easily plucked from the Sisters heads, even if she never quite means to. Knowing their wants and needs. Strengthening their bond with a practiced availability. Ever so gently getting them to free up their hearts to her. To accept the love she has growing for them, by allowing themselves to return it.

 

“Pru,” she whispers softly into the slumbering girl's ear. “Prudence,” she repeats when a groan is all she gets as a reply.

 

“What is it?” Prudence questions through a yawn.

Sabrina kisses her soft and slow.

 

“Nothing.”

 

Prudence scoffs.

 

“You wicked, wicked girl.”

 

“I know,” Sabrina gives, leaning down again, taking satisfaction in the way that Prudence gives herself so easily after that.

 

The Dark Lord's will is power through fear.

 

Sabrina vows to beat him by taking a different tact.

 

/\

 

**as wicked**

-

Dorcas' eyes are alight with amusement, hiding a laugh behind her hand, as she looks around for someone else to have Sabrina work her magic on. Standing together in the corner of a convenience store, running an errand for Aunt Hilda, Sabrina let slip that someone who accidentally bumped her shoulder was once put on trial for money laundering. And so a game began.

 

A single finger dances between her options, before finally settling on a middle aged man, adjusting his glasses in front of half empty coffee pot.

 

“Him,” she says with an emphatic point. “What's his deepest, darkest fear?”

 

Sabrina focuses on the man, now pouring himself a cup from the pot, and takes a deep breath. It's only a moment, before the thought presents itself to her, a childhood incident that never left his mind. The result a source of dread and discomfort following him all his life.

 

“Rats,” Sabrina answers. “His cousin had a pet when they were boys, he held it wrong, and it nearly bit the tip of one of his pinkies off.”

 

Dorcas laughs again, clapping her hands softly.

 

“Okay, okay, her!” she says, giving another point, this time to a girl who must be in her early twenties. Bright pink hair, and jean shorts, standing in the candy aisle as if the decision to which kind she wants is far too difficult to make. “Biggest regret?”

 

Sabrina focuses once more, the request actually taking a bit of digging around in the girl's mind, having several that could qualify. Eventually she does find one in particular, that will give Dorcas' the thrill she's looking for.

 

“In love with her best friend all through high school,” Sabrina reports. “But never had the guts to confess before she left for college. In Japan. She's pretty sure they'll never see each other again.”

 

Dorcas' hums her delight, turning to press a playful kiss against Sabrina's cheek.

 

“Who knew mortals could be so entertaining?

 

Her eyes linger on Sabrina another moment.

 

“Who knew you could?”

 

Sabrina turns to her, eyebrow raising in curiosity as to what she means by that, and asks accordingly.

 

“Just that,” Dorcas trails off, trying to find the words. “Before this.” Her fingers lift to play with Sabrina's hair. “Before us. You were kind of-”

 

“A stick in the mud?” Sabrina finishes for her.

 

Dorcas smirks.

 

“Something like that.”

 

Her fingers twirl through Sabrina's strands.

 

“But now look at you. So powerful. So free.”

 

Sabrina wants to kiss her, but the setting doesn't play, instead she takes Dorcas' hand and leads her out of the store.

 

“Dorcas my dear,” she begins, looking back to the clerk with a wink as the neon sign above his head pops and burns out. “You haven't seen anything yet.”

 

-

 

The dorm room is empty, as Sabrina lays flat on her stomach on the bed, legs kicking to and fro as she flips through the pages of a book she's not supposed to have. The paper is thicker than she would expect, even from a volume as old as this, the text raised as she runs her fingers across it suspecting the ink to actually be blood.

 

For whatever reason, Sabrina was drawn to it in the library, sneaking it out of the forbidden section all on her own. It smells like death. Was probably written in agony. She doesn't understand the words in a literal sense, but the symbols and runes make her feel as if she might have once.

 

Agatha comes into the room, greets her with a smile, before walking over to her own bed and dropping her satchel down on it. Sabrina's eyes flick between the book and Agatha stretching out her arms, then rolling her neck.

 

“Long day?” Sabrina asks, eyes returning to the page.

 

Agatha sighs, before taking a seat on the mattress.

 

“Those sycophants in the Honors Society wouldn't know what to do with practical intelligence if they read every article ever written on the subject. I don't know why I bother attending those meetings.”

 

Sabrina looks up once more.

 

“Because you love being smarter than everyone in the room.”

 

Agatha smiles wickedly.

 

“Well, aren't you an intuitive one?”

 

Sabrina goes back to the book, but she can feel Agatha's gaze remain on her, as she suddenly stands again and makes way across the room.

 

“What are you reading?”

 

Sabrina keeps her eyes on the book.

 

“I'm not sure,” she answers. “Something from the forbidden section. I was feeling a little naughty, and took it without asking.”

 

Agatha stands at the foot of Sabrina's bed.

 

“That is Lady Haversham's grimoire.”

 

Sabrina turns a page.

 

“No one is allowed to take that book.”

 

“Funny,” Sabrina states, fingers running over the text again. “I took it.”

 

“No you don't understand,” Agatha reiterates, her own hand reaching down to the book, and snaps back as if shocked. “No one is allowed to take it, because it does not allow itself to be taken.” 

Sabrina finally looks up to Agatha's expectant face, eyes shining with both shock and awe.

 

“They say she killed over a hundred innocents to write it,” she informs. “Her magic was blacker than black.”

 

She drops to her knees, to that she and Sabrina are face to face.

 

“Why did it choose you?”

 

Sabrina doesn't answer.

 

“It senses something in you.”

 

Agatha reaches out, to caress her cheek.

 

“Something dark.”

 

Sabrina pushes forward to kiss her, not wanting to hear any more.

 

-

 

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” Sabrina teases, pressing small kisses against Prudence's neck.

 

“Does that mean you wish to take it from me?” Prudence counters, pushing Sabrina onto her back.

 

“No,” she denies. “Royalty wouldn't suit me.”

 

Prudence guides a teasing finger along Sabrina's jaw, down her neck and chest, before that hand settles firmly on her hip.

 

“And sweetness doesn't suit me,” she says. “But here we are.”

 

Sabrina inhales sharply, when Prudence proceeds to kiss her as if the world will suddenly end, nearly wishing it would so that this moment would be preserved forever. Wondering just how it is, that this person who had honestly wished her dead, is now one of the most important people in her life. That she looks back on the bad blood between them, as if it happened to someone else. Never forgetting, but very much forgiving. This new part of herself much more understanding of what darkness is. What it lends itself to their kind.

 

Nick once told her that witches are more prone to lust than love. Their Dark Lord is a jealous god who wants that emotion all to himself. But Sabrina sees the shift in Prudence. In Agatha and Dorcas. They dare not say it for fear of losing their tongues, but she senses it within them. Within herself. How they continue to twist her way, and she in turn theirs.

 

“Where are you right now?” Prudence questions suddenly, breaking the kiss. “Because it doesn't appear to be here. With me.”

 

Sabrina's eyes open to the curl of Prudence's lip, and expression of irritation. How dare Sabrina waste some of their precious alone time with a wandering mind. Prudence frowns as if realizing what she's doing, without even trying at all.

 

“Don't you dare,” she warns. “My thoughts are my own, and I will not have you rooting around them.”

 

“Sorry,” Sabrina is quick to apologize. “I didn't... I don't mean to. With you. I just-”

 

Prudence seems to soften a little at that.

 

“Power is a gift,” she says, thumb running across Sabrina's lip. “But what good is it without control?”

 

She leans down to playfully nuzzle their noses.

 

“I know what you've been up to,” she states. “Indulging yourself with my Sisters.”

 

Sabrina opens her mouth, but Prudence is quick to place her finger over it.

 

“You want to be a big bad witch?” she asks. “Maybe one day rule us all?”

 

Sabrina shakes her head.

 

She's never wanted that.

 

“Fate it would seem,” Prudence goes on. “Has other plans.”

 

Sabrina pushes forward for another kiss, but Prudence pulls back.

 

“I don't care about fate,” Sabrina insists.

 

“No?”

 

Sabrina pushes forward again, claiming Prudence's mouth with her own.

 

“It holds no interest to me,” she assures. “My story is my own. Whatever plans fate, or the Dark Lord have, I'll make my own path.”

 

“Blasphemer,” Prudence sneers, though she holds no indignation at the statement.

 

“And whenever that path leads,” Sabrina continues. “I'll walk it with you. With your sisters.”

 

Sabrina kisses her again.

 

“And if there must be a Queen, then we can all be.”

 

/\

 

**mephisto waltz**

-

“Do it again!” Prudence snaps, the riding crop smacking against her leg. “Agatha, tighten up your form. Dorcas, don't waddle your hips. And Sabrina, will you stop fiddling the tether between your fingers.”

 

The three girls share a glaring look between them. They've been at this for hours, and it seems that no matter how they try to adjust, nothing about their dance routine seems acceptable to Prudence. Sweat beads on Dorcas' forehead, though the movements aren't all that taxing, they've had no breaks. No water. Forced to go through the movements over and over.

 

“I want those movements fluid,” Prudence commands. “Sensual. All eyes in the room should be on the three of you, and only you.”

 

They begin again, each girl doing their part, but neither one enjoying a single step. All expecting something about their performance to be wrong in Prudence's eyes. Halfway through the routine and they're not told to stop, the three exchanging glances as they pass each other, remaining hopeful that this will be the time they get it right.

 

“Yes,” Prudence remarks evenly. “That's it. Just like that.”

 

Sabrina isn't sure what about this run through is different from the rest, but she dares not question it, focusing on her steps. Her body language. If Prudence wants sensual, she'll giver her carnal, lustful. Glancing back at their fearless leader, her lips part slightly, projecting nothing but wanton desire.

 

Prudence doesn't miss it, grip tightening on the crop in hand.

 

Agatha and Dorcas take note and follow suit, the dance falling from routine into a siren call. They take Prudence's command for desire, and exude it ten fold, the tethers falling from their hands as they embrace each other instead.

 

Prudence does not tell them to stop, when they twist in slow circles, hands switching hands. Dorcas leans forward to kiss Sabrina, who in turn, twists her head to kiss Agatha. A pleased smile on all their faces. Still, Prudence does not command them to stop, though the routine they are supposed to practice quickly becomes forgotten.

 

They form a circle and spin together, before letting go and whirling in place, then clasping hands in a circle once more. Sabrina kisses Dorcas, who kisses Agatha, who kisses Sabrina. Prudence does not tell them to stop.

 

Sabrina steps back from the circle, allowing Agatha and Dorcas to embrace each other, carrying on in a kind of waltz. Sabrina dances on her tip toes toward Prudence, still gripping that crop tightly between both hands, and spins to a halt in front of her.

 

“Is that sensual enough for you?”

 

Prudence swallows audibly, tilting her head and concentrating on Sabrina's lips.

 

“Highly inappropriate for the ceremony,” she comments. “But very much improved.”

 

Sabrina smirks.

 

“Don't you want to join us?”

 

“I don't dance,” Prudence detracts. “I lead.”

 

Sabrina pulls the crop from her hands, runs a finger the length of it, before rising to her toes again and circling around Prudence with the crop teasing all the way.

 

“I'm starting to think you don't know how,” she teases.

 

“You hold your tongue,” Prudence warns.

 

Sabrina stops in front of her again, pushing up to close that last gap.

 

“Make me.”

 

/\

 

**what's in a name?**

-

The air crackles with an electricity, everyone time one of the Sisters appear, hairs rising on the back of her neck just before they materialize. Sabrina keeps her focus on the book before her, exams coming up the following Monday, and she is not a all confident in her grasp of ancient runes. Soft footsteps pad their way toward her, as she flips a page, never turning her head to greet the visitor.

 

“Hello Dorcas,” she offers.

 

Hands rest atop her shoulders, as a kiss is placed on her cheek.

 

“Hello Sabrina,” Dorcas replies.

 

Sabrina sighs, finger resting on a rune she should know, but the answer does not present itself. Growling in frustration, her head falls back, resting against Dorcas' stomach.

 

“I take it your studies are not going well?” she inquires.

 

Sabrina groans.

 

“Why can't we learn Spanish, or French, or some other practical language of the world? Why does witchcraft thrive almost exclusively in dead dialects?”

 

Dorcas grins, one of her hands lifting to run through Sabrina's hair.

 

“How can they be dead, if we still use them?”

 

Sabrina glares, though no animosity shines in her eyes.

 

“Answering a question with a question, is not really helping.”

 

Dorcas' grin turns to a wicked smile.

 

“Am I meant to be helping?”

 

Sabrina's brow lifts curiously.

 

“Why else would you have come?”

 

Dorcas' fingers still in Sabrina's hair, as she leans down to press a kiss against her forehead.

 

“I didn't plan on visiting,” she confesses. “We were in the dorm, Prudence, Agatha and I. Going over our own texts. And though I knew you wanted some time alone to concentrate, I couldn't help to wonder how you were getting along. Next thing I know, I'm here.”

 

Sabrina smiles at the answer.

 

“Oh Dorky,” she teases. “You really can't stand to be apart from me, can you?”

 

Dorcas frowns at the name.

 

“That does not sound like something I want to be called.”

 

Sabrina takes one of the hands on her shoulders, pulls it to her lips, and presses a kiss against it.

 

“It's a term of affection,” she insists. “I assure you.”

 

Dorcas' eyes flutter closed.

 

“Affection,” she repeats.

 

Sabrina rises from the chair, turns and embraces her properly.

 

“Dorky,” Sabrina reiterates, tilting her head up for a kiss. “My Dorky.”

 

Dorcas' arms go around Sabrina's neck.

 

“Never call me that in front of our Sisters.”

 

Sabrina smiles.

 

“Deal.”

 

-

 

It's pitch black, and Sabrina has no idea which way to go, wandering around blind with her arms held out before her. Wondering what big bad it is this time, wanting to destroy her and all she holds dear. Sleep demon? Ghost with a grudge? Rival coven looking for revenge?

 

She walks slowly on unsure steps, this endless void so disorienting, with no direction forthcoming. Not even sure which way is up or down. Time doesn't seem to be a factor either. It feels as if she's been wandering forever, but it may as well been five minutes.

 

“Lux,” she whispers, curling her hand to hold onto the energy. “Lux,” again when nothing forms in her palm.

 

“That's not going to work,” a voice calls. From where she can't pinpoint, but it's welcome and familiar.

 

“Agatha?” she calls into the dark, arm waving wildly trying to make contact. “Is that-”

 

“Yes,” she assures. “It's me.”

 

Sabrina doesn't bother to ask the unnecessary question as to where she is in this madness, but she still keeps her arms outstretched, just in case.

 

“Why won't it work?” she asks.

 

The answer seems to take forever, time a factor yet again.

 

“Because this isn't darkness,” Agatha finally replies. “It's a void of light.”

 

Sabrina doesn't understand.

 

“What does that mean?”

 

Another long pause.

 

“It means any and all light is absorbed,” she answers. “Not just absent. You try to create it, and it will vanish before you do.”

 

“How?”

 

“Because not matter how fast light is, darkness is always there first, waiting for it.”

 

How philosophical, Sabrina muses. But it also makes her wonder.

 

“Agatha?”

 

Yet another pause.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Do you know what this is?”

 

Sabrina counts the seconds, gets nearly to thirteen when-

 

“Yes.”

 

“Tell me.”

 

Sabrina reaches around again, hoping to come in contact with her, laughing in relief when her hand is taken with another.

 

“My melancholia,” she answers. “It creeps its way inside at times. I am helpless against it.”

 

Sabrina pulls on that hand until a body presses against hers, turning her head against Agatha's chest, she listens to the beat of her heart.

 

“What can I do?” she asks.

 

Sabrina feels Agatha's hand cup the back of her head.

 

“You're already doing it,” she replies.

 

Sabrina smiles against her.

 

“How long with it last?”

 

Agatha sighs.

 

“Thirteen minutes.”

 

Sabrina's eyes widen with the realization, the exact time Agatha was dead by her hand. The tears form before she can help it, her hold on the girl tightening with the guilt.

 

“I'm sorry,” she offers quietly. “Aggie, I'm so sorry.”

 

Agatha neither accepts nor denies the apology, just holds her in the dark.

 

“Trying something new?” Agatha inquires.

 

“What?”

 

“I haven't been called that since I was a child.”

 

“Oh,” Sabrina accepts. “Term of endearment. I was just-”

 

“It's sweet,” Agatha gives. “Like you.”

 

The endless black seems to be fading, light slowly working its way back into the world, Sabrina realizing they're in the graveyard just outside her house. She's about to apologize again, when Agatha cuts her off with a kiss, forgiven but not forgotten.

 

-

 

With Prudence it's not a conscious decision. A planned pet name, or expression of love, when the three little words are expressly forbidden between them. It comes naturally, because the first syllable of her name is all Sabrina can ever manage to express, between kisses that leave her breathless.

 

“Pru,” she manages as Prudence slips a hand around her bare leg just under the hem of her skirt.

 

“Pru,” when ravaged against a wall of a hidden corner, footsteps of fellow students walking by none the wiser.

 

It's not as if Prudence takes notice, on a surface level anyway, always concentrating on the task at hand. The goal being Sabrina making sounds she's never made before, like music to her ears. Sabrina, however, does note that Prudence reacts every time she lets those three letters slip past her lips.

 

Fuel to the fire, as it were.

 

So Sabrina begins addressing her as such in the most inopportune moments. Whenever she leaves their table in the dining hall, off to a class not shared with her or the Sisters, saying goodbye to Agatha and Dorcas but always leaning close to Prudence's ear. Smirking with delight at the way her grip suddenly tightens on whichever utensil happens to be in had.

 

Whenever she happens to be speaking with Father Blackwood, Sabrina will waltz on over, and greet her in the shortened way while the High Priest looks between them as if he simply will never understand teenage girls. Or when she goes home for the weekend, kissing each of the Sisters cheeks before parting, taking extra care to linger on Prudence.

 

“You think you're so clever,” she hisses, grip tightening on Sabrina's waist. “Winding me up every time you depart.”

 

Sabrina grins in reply, liking when she's wound, the unraveling always something to look forward to.

 

“Why,” she begins, teasing her fingers along Prudence's lips. “Whatever do you mean?”

 

Prudence's eyes flare with the denial, mouth curling into a challenging sneer.

 

“I will make you pay for such insolence.”

 

Sabrina leans in for a kiss.

 

“Oh Pru,” she taunts. “Promises, promises.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

**abandoned sand castles**  

 

-

 

“What,” Prudence asks, tilting the circle-lensed glasses down her nose. “Are you wearing?”

 

Sabrina looks down at her swimming costume with its long sleeves, long legs and stripes. Reminiscent of Coney Island in the late nineteenth century.

 

“You guys said retro,” she replies.

 

“Retro,” Agatha reiterates.

 

“Not ancient,” Dorcas finishes.

 

Sabrina looks at their swimsuits, very much similar to the nightgowns they all wear, minus the robes. A definite vibe from the 1940's. Prudence's being white, to Agatha's black, and finally Dorcas' green. They look like the goth versions of some pinup poster you'd see in a soldiers foot locker from World War Two. Sabrina doesn't share this opinion with the Sisters. Already on the wrong end of the fashion plate for the day.

 

Prudence takes a step closer, reaching out a hand to tug playfully on the costume's skirt.

 

“Where did you even acquire such a museum piece?”

 

“My Aunt Hilda,” Sabrina answers with a small curtsy.

 

Agatha and Dorcas both laugh into their hands, as if Sabrina is the most naive yet delightful creature they've ever come across. Prudence however, circles her like a shark waiting to chomp, misplaced fashion concept not withstanding. She leans forward for a whisper light kiss to the witch's lips.

 

“Wretchedly adorable,” she spits without venom. “What am I to do with you?”

 

Sabrina blushes, but fights the instinct to duck her head, smirking instead.

 

“Join me in having a fun day at the beach?”

 

Prudence pushes the glasses back up her nose.

 

“Of course,” she accepts. “So much fun.”

 

Sabrina is kicking around the water, as the waves rush up the sand, continually looking back at the Sisters. They've all chosen to plant themselves firmly in the sand, parasols protecting them from the sun, as Agatha reads from a musty old book while Prudence and Dorcas lay on their backs.

 

“Are you really just going to lay there all day?” Sabrina inquires, making her way back to them.

 

None of them move.

 

“That's the plan,” Prudence answers, never lifting her head.

 

Sabrina can't help to pout.

 

“It's a beautiful day,” she insists. “The water isn't that cold, and I just thought-”

 

“That we'd run around like silly little loons?” Prudence interrupts.

 

“Sorry Sabrina,” Agatha inputs.

 

“That's just not our style,” Dorcas finishes.

 

Sabrina folds her arms, eyes locked with Dorcas, knowing they've had more than a few conversations about a beach day. It was the two of them that convinced the others to come. She doesn't quite want to believe that once they're here, she's just going to fall in line with her Sisters because that's what always happens. She walks right up to the redhead, leans down and takes her hand, pulling her up despite the resistance.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Come on,” Sabrina demands. “We're building a sand castle.”

 

Dorcas' brow creases together, but once on her feet, she doesn't try to lay back down. Instead she reaches for her parasol, and allows Sabrina to take her hand, guiding them toward the water.

 

“Careful Sister,” Prudence calls.

 

“Try not to burn,” Agatha states.

 

Dorcas' feet shuffle quickly through the sand, trying to keep up with Sabrina's exuberant pace and enthusiasm.

 

“I will burn,” she mutters to herself. “I'm the palest one here.”

 

Sabrina hears and laughs accordingly.

 

“Should you get too toasty,” she offers. “I promise to rub aloe all over you.”

 

Dorcas does not dismiss the idea, about to follow up with an innuendo of her own, when the water flows across her bare feet. The temperature causes her to scream, not expecting it to be quite so cold, and Sabrina laughs again at her discomfort.

 

“If you're just going to make fun of me, I'm laying back down.”

 

Sabrina just tilts her head.

 

“Not making fun,” she assures. “But you're, how should I say, wretchedly adorable?”

 

Dorcas frowns, but does not head back to her Sisters as threatened, following Sabrina to her knees to collect wet sand into a bucket she never even noticed Sabrina was in possession of.

 

“So we just,” Dorcas begins, not quite sure how this is supposed to work. “Mold it like clay?”

 

“Kind of,” Sabrina allows, flipping over the bucket to create the first tower. “Here,” she offers a small shovel to Dorcas. “Take this and start digging a moat.”

 

Dorcas just looks at her.

 

“If we're going to build a castle, we're doing it in grand style.”

 

Dorcas then looks at the shovel in hand as if it's an object she's never seen before.

 

“This is silly.”

 

“Yes,” Sabrina agrees. “But fun.”

 

A big wave crashes behind them, pulling Dorcas' attention to the water.

 

“I love that sound,” she offers softly.

 

Sabrina turns her head, the unasked question clear in her eyes.

 

“Waves on a beach,” Dorcas clarifies.

 

As if sensing something in the declaration, Sabrina leaves her bucket half full of sand, and twists around the face the water. Dorcas follows suit, settling down, and placing the parasol between them.

 

“What about your castle?” she asks.

 

Sabrina takes her hand, leaning over to rest her head on Dorcas' shoulder.

 

“It can wait.”

 

/\

 

**yultide**

-

Sabrina appears before them with a bottle in hand.

 

Agatha is the first to notice it, polished fingernail pointing toward the contents, while Prudence and Dorcas look on curiously.

 

“Eggnog,” Sabrina clarifies, offering it up with a shake. “My Aunt Hilda's secret recipe.”

 

“Which is to say,” Agatha starts.

 

“Rum?” Dorcas finishes.

 

Sabrina nods in the affirmative, before looking to Prudence, who hasn't yet said a word.

 

“I'll fetch some glasses,” she offers, exiting the room to retrieve them.

 

Agatha and Dorcas take the bottle from Sabrina's hand, pop the seal, and take turns smelling the contents.

 

“Oh,” Agatha hums approvingly.

 

“It's absolutely sinful,” Dorcas chimes in.

 

Sabrina smiles at their enthusiasm, and laughs when Dorcas' impatiently goes for a sip, then Agatha rips the bottle away before she can.

 

“Prudence will flog you silly if you drink before she does,” she warns.

 

“Which will make for an even better Solstice,” Dorcas detracts.

 

Sabrina's brow lifts at the statement, but doesn't comment, Prudence coming back into the room with four cups in hand.

 

Agatha hands the bottle back to Sabrina, who pours a hearty helping into each glass, and watches as Prudence takes a whiff just as her Sisters before her. She lifts her glass in offering, all three girls rising to meet her, clinking cheers and malevolent tidings.

 

“Happy Solstice,” Sabrina declares.

 

“Happy Solstice,” they all echo.

 

With the bottle almost empty Agatha and Dorcas sit on the floor against one of their beds, cuddled up with the remnants of their last drink, while Sabrina and Prudence sit against the opposite facing them. Sabrina's eyes close for the briefest moment, feeling warm and fuzzy from the nog, and a little flushed Prudence is pressed so close against her.

 

“Why did you come here?” Prudence asks, her voice just low enough that the Sisters don't hear her.

 

Sabrina's turns to her, somewhat confused by the question, but inebriated senses give just enough confidence that she raises a finger to run along the design in Prudence's hair.

 

“Pretty,” she mumbles.

 

Prudence smirks at the compliment, but does not let it distract.

 

“That's not an answer.”

 

Sabrina looks across to Agatha and Dorcas, glasses now empty, and watching on like they're witnessing a play.

 

“The thought of you, all of you, here alone on Solstice.”

 

She looks down to her glass, one last drink remaining, and takes it rather quickly.

 

“After you were all willing to help me, it just didn't seem fair.”

 

Agatha and Dorcas give her matching smiles, but when she turns back to Prudence, she doesn't have one of her own. She has one last drink as well, offers it up to all of them, and downs it with vigor.

 

“You're starting to like us,” she states, eyes locked onto Sabrina. “Aren't you?”

 

Sabrina clucks her tongue.

 

“Opposed to not liking you?”

 

Agatha and Dorcas have crawled across the floor, now perched in front of Prudence and Sabrina, hands resting on their legs and waiting.

 

“We were mean to you,” Prudence continues. “Cruel.”

 

Sabrina's fingers travel down to Prudence's neck, remembering a threat that was not so idle.

 

“I gave it right back,” she replies. “Didn't I?

 

She looks to Agatha, then down at her empty glass again. Prudence's own hand reaches toward her, toying with the ends of her hair.

 

“It's what witches do,” she gives.

 

Sabrina doesn't like that in way of explanation. Cruelty for cruelty's sake. That darkness is any form is simply their nature. She doesn't object, however, too warm from Aunt Hilda's overzealous dash of rum in her eggnog. Nor does she react, when Prudence leans forward and presses the softest of kisses against Sabrina's lips.

 

Or further still, when Agatha leans in and does the same, quickly followed by Dorcas.

 

“Oh,” she manages to say, hand going to her mouth. “My.”

 

The Sisters all smile at her.

 

“You'll give your Aunt our appraisal?” Prudence asks. “Her eggnog was a delight.”

 

Sabrina nods.

 

“I will.”

 

Those smiles still focused on her, Sabrina's eyes flutter closed as they lean in again.

 

“Happy Solstice Sabrina,” is rattled off by each one.

 

(She doesn't get the chance to reply.)

 

/\

 

**small twists of fate**

-

Sabrina rubs her eyes, walking into the changing room, stifling another yawn as she notices Agatha sitting alone in a chair. She's staring at her reflection in the mirror, dressed for the day, but her hair is still down past her shoulders.

 

“Agatha,” she greets. “Morning.”

 

Agatha's eyes stay focused on the mirror, but she smiles in response.

 

“Good morrow, Sabrina.”

 

Sabrina goes for the sink, runs cool water through her fingers, then splashes some on her face. She shivers with the sensation, trying to shake the last remnants of sleep from her body, arms stretching above her head.

 

Agatha does not move. Sabrina watches her to moment to see if she blinks, but even that seems to take longer than it should.

 

“Are you alright?” she finds herself asking.

 

“Yes,” Agatha replies, still not moving. “Why wouldn't I be?”

 

Because you look like a creepy mannequin come to life, Sabrina thinks but dares not comment.

 

“Where's Dorcas?” Sabrina continues. “Or Prudence?”

 

Agatha's focus remains on the mirror.

 

“Called away by Nick. Before you ask, I don't know why. But they said they'd be right back.”

 

Why didn't she go with them is a follow up question Sabrina doesn't ask. For all of three seconds. Moving closer to Agatha's side, a hand placed on her shoulder, she doesn't think she's ever seen this particular Sister by herself.

 

“My hair is unkempt,” comes Agatha's reply. “I had just finished braiding Dorcas', when the message came, and I couldn't leave looking like this.”

 

Like this, Sabrina muses. Shiny, black, and soft to the touch. The kind of hair that would get her spots in shampoo commercials in the mortal world. Agatha still doesn't move, when Sabrina runs her fingers from end to end, though she does take a deep breath at the contact.

 

“Would you like me to-”

 

“Dorcas braids my hair.”

 

Sabrina's hands still.

 

“Dorcas isn't here right now.”

 

Agatha looks contemplative in her reflection. As if allowing her to complete this simple task is violating some sort of code within their group.

 

“Agatha,” Sabrina begins, leaning down to press a kiss atop her head. “Let me do it.”

 

A single nod, is the only confirmation given, but Sabrina smiles to herself as she begins to work. Splitting the hair down the middle, tying off one side, before separating the other into sections then twisting all the way down.

 

Agatha watches with rapt attention, but offers no commentary or comparison to Dorcas' style, also keeping quiet to Sabrina's stories of her Aunts teaching her their own techniques growing up. Tying off the final braid, Sabrina catches Agatha's eyes in the mirror, single brow lifting as if to ask an opinion of her handiwork.

 

“Commendable,” is the only thing Agatha gives, hands lifting to play with the free stands at the ends of her pigtails.

 

Sabrina smirks.

 

“You're welcome.”

 

Prudence and Dorcas return at that moment, both pausing at the sight of them, Dorcas and Agatha staring right at each other.

 

“She insisted,” Agatha gives cautiously.

 

Dorcas breezes past Sabrina, stops directly behind Agatha's chair, and begins inspecting both the braids.

 

“You went with Dutch,” she states, one of the braids held between her fingers.

 

“It's easier for me,” Sabrina replies. “I don't know why.”

 

Dorcas' eyes meet Agatha's in the mirror.

 

“Do you like it?”

 

Agatha nods, and Dorcas turns to Sabrina.

 

“Not bad,” she gives.

 

Sabrina smiles.

 

“Come along, Agatha.” Dorcas continues, leading her Sister from the room. “The day has already begun.”

 

They exit without another word, as Sabrina finally begins her morning routine, while Prudence watches on with arms folded.

 

“What?”

 

“Tread carefully,” Prudence warns.

 

Sabrina frowns, unsure as to the implication.

 

“I don't understand.”

 

Prudence moves closer, lips hovering just above Sabrina's ear.

 

“You're the only one who's ever come between those two,” she states.

 

A sick feeling swirls in Sabrina's stomach. A half truth, Prudence's statement. She allowed the event that let Sabrina be the one to come between Agatha and Dorcas, but in the end it was she alone who actually separated them. Sometimes she can still feel the knife in her hand.

 

“I would never,” she starts, cuts herself off with a breath, then tries again. “I mean, again. I wouldn't-”

 

“I know that,” Prudence interrupts. “But perhaps, take care to assure that they do as well?”

 

Sabrina nods.

 

“Splendid.”

 

Prudence kisses her cheek.

 

“Hurry up then. Breakfast will soon be ready. We'll be waiting for your at our table.”

 

/\

 

**bright solstice**

-

“You seem nervous,” says Aunt Hilda, watching as Sabrina lingers in the foyer, absently playing with her fingers.

 

“Huh?” Sabrina replies, taking a moment to register she was being spoken to, and another to actually acknowledge what was said. “Nervous? No I'm... Fine. Everything is fine.”

 

Hilda approaches her carefully, a placating hand placed upon her shoulder, with a soft smile to match.

 

“It's alright to be, you know,” she assures. “First proper Solstice with your... Your...”

 

Hilda blinks, bringing a hand to her chin.

 

“What do you call them, exactly?”

 

Sabrina grins.

 

“My girls,” she answers. “I call them my girls.”

 

Hilda smiles into her hand, humming approval, before a stronger emotion seems to overcome her features.

 

“Auntie, what is it?”

 

Hilda waves her hand in dismissal, gathering herself.

 

“Nothing,” she insists. “It's just, what with everything that's happened, and your constantly being pulled in two directions. It's nice to see you happy, Ducky.”

 

Sabrina opens her mouth to reply, when a knock on the door pulls her attention away, immediately smoothing out her dress before going to answer.

 

“That's them,” she reports unnecessarily, looking back to Hilda, who's already making her way back to the kitchen.

 

Opening the door, Prudence, Agatha, and Dorcas greet her on the other side. All in matching black dresses and gold cuffs, though the pendants worn around their necks seem to stray from the scheme.

 

“Bright Solstice, ladies.”

 

They all smile in return.

 

“Bright Solstice, Sabrina,” they echo in unison.

 

Sabrina waves them inside.

 

“Come in, come in.”

 

Agatha crosses the threshold and embraces her first, offering a quick kiss on the cheek, before moving on to the living room. Dorcas does the same, but makes sure to kiss the cheek opposite of the one Agatha had. Prudence surprises her with an actual kiss on the lips, smirking pointedly at Sabrina's sudden flush, before going to join her Sisters.

 

Ambrose and Luke are cuddled up on the couch, when the Sisters enter, all greeting each other properly before settling into a seating arrangement that allows for casual conversation. Hilda and Zelda are in the kitchen, preparing the feast, while Sabrina remains content to watch some of the most important people in her life get along as well as she could have hoped.

 

They all shift into the dining room when Zelda informs them dinner is ready, Sabrina sitting next to her cousin and Luke on one side, while the Sisters take up the other, with Hilda and Zelda at the ends. Sabrina keeps a watchful eye on Zelda. Looking for what, she's not quite sure. Approval? Appraisal? Embracing her witch side finally and fully, entering a polyamorous relationship with the fiercest witches she knows, should garner these things from her Aunt. But if asked, Sabrina couldn't quite answer just why she would need them.

 

Dinner carries on relatively smoothly, a few awkward moments here and there, with the Sisters bluntness on most subjects and Luke's ill advised inquiries on just how a relationship between four people can actually function.

 

After a dessert of custard pie and coffee, they gather again in the living room for Ambrose's annual reading of a Christmas Carol. Prudence takes a seat in one of the chairs, as Sabrina settles in a spot on the floor in front of her, just between Prudence's legs. Agatha follow suit on Sabrina's right and loops their arms together. Dorcas does the same, but on the left.

 

The ghost of Christmas future is showing Scrooge his grave, when Sabrina feels a kiss pressed atop her head, and looks up to see Prudence smiling down at her. Agatha then presses a kiss to her right cheek, while Dorcas gives it on the left.

 

Sabrina sighs with a contentment she would have never thought capable in the past year. Sharing the briefest of eye contact with each one her girls, she doesn't need prompting to end the night with the traditional toast.

 

_Satan bless us, everyone._

 

/\

 

**bruise violet**

-

Most days, Sabrina isn't sure how to process the feeling.

 

Whenever she looks at Prudence.

 

Sees the way she walks. Cold and fluid. Like a shark among chum. Ready to snap out at any moment. Make the world her meal. The Sisters following in her wake, ready and willing to do the same. She doesn't quite know what her place is. When she takes it with them. When they welcome her gladly, despite all she's questioned. All she's wronged.

 

Sabrina watches as Prudence breaks off from her Sisters, taking a sharp right, while their path continues forward. Counting to five, she then follows, keeping a respectful distance. Curious as to where she goes all on her own. The only one of three to dare being alone.

 

Prudence cuts through the corridors quickly, zigzagging in no discernible pattern, and when Sabrina finally realizes it's because she knows she's being followed it's too late.

 

“You are truly terrible at this,” Prudence chides, stopping in her tracks, but keeping her back turned.

 

Sabrina looks at the girl's hands, polished nails shining near her ear, before Prudence spins around with a playful smirk.

 

“Were this the olden days, you would have gone home with no supper. When you act as if you're more prey than predator.”

 

Sabrina can't help but be drawn to the new shade painting her lips. A purple so deep it's almost black. Lovely.

 

“Are comparing yourself to a doe?” she asks.

 

Prudence takes a step forward.

 

“You're no wolf,” she teases, reaching out to boop Sabrina on the nose. “So if I were, what would I have to fear?”

 

Gosh, she's pretty.

 

It's the one coherent thought Sabrina can form, when Prudence takes yet another step, personal space no longer an option.

 

“I like your lipstick,” is all she manages to say.

 

Prudence's smug smirk turns to a smile.

 

“I take that to mean you must want something from me.”

 

Sabrina's brow furrows.

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

“Because,” Prudence begins, fingers reaching out to dance along the top of Sabrina's shoulders. “What's the use of niceties, if not to get something for yourself?”

 

Sabrina is ready to deny it. That there's nothing she wants in return for such a small compliment. That she's simply telling the truth, and the color is truly remarkable upon her lips. But Prudence sees right through her. Somehow, she always does. Sabrina definitely wants something. But she's not going to get it her usual way.

 

“How cynical,” she retorts. “Don't you ever think, that someone can be nice for no reason?”

 

“Not for a second,” Prudence is quick to assure. “Not even a sweet little pea such as yourself.”

 

Now it's Sabrina who smirks.

 

“It's a lovely color,” she states. “That's all. And it suits you quite nicely, except...”

 

Prudence's eyebrow lifts curiously.

 

“Except what?”

 

“It's smudged.”

 

Prudence cluck her tongue.

 

“It most certainly is not-”

 

Sabrina braves forward then, claiming Prudence's lips with her own, taking great satisfaction in the surprised yelp emanating from the witch's throat. Even more so, when feeling those slender arms wrap around her, the kiss deepening.

 

This is where she belongs now, Sabrina thinks. With her. With them.

 

Her place being kissed with plum colored lips, that are as sweet as the fruit itself.

 

Sabrina pulls back, only to catch her breath, and feels her confidence soar at the look Prudence gives. Reaching up with her thumb, Sabrina wipes away the smudges she caused, and offers it up for Prudence to see.

 

“Told you.”

 

Prudence looks almost proud.

 

“Clever girl,” she states. “Got what you wanted?”

 

Sabrina shakes her head, before leaning in again.

 

“Not even close.”

 

/\

 

**you distract me**

-

It's a cold, gray Saturday.

 

Sabrina sits with legs crossed on her bed, old leather bound book in hand, listening to the sounds of raindrops hitting the windowsill rather than reading. Her eyes stray toward the glass, clouds dark and endless outside, as she reaches for her phone to queue up a little mood music.

 

The guitar strumming causes all three Sisters to look up at her, collected in this room, for the pretense of studying for final exams at the end the school term. None of them question her choice, or offer opinion on the music, which honestly is a bit surprising. Especially from Prudence, who offers commentary on nearly everything she does.

 

By the time the second song begins, she's managed to read a whole paragraph, this ancient collection of hexes so extraordinarily dull focusing on the words causes her eyes to blur. Still, she forges on not wanting to get less than stellar marks, but the third song begins to play and she's pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

 

Throwing her legs over the edge of the mattress, she shifts the book back into her lap, forcing herself to absorb the information within but nothing seems to take. Instead she looks back to the window, letting the music fill her ears, while the eyes focus out on the rain.

 

The entirety of the fourth song happens with a page held between her fingers, thinking of how Susie was obsessed with this album last summer, how it was insisted upon that both she and Roz download it. Sabrina had thought the harrowing melodies were quite striking, but it wasn't really to Roz's liking, and truth be told Sabrina hasn't listened to it for quite some time. The words still resonate in her mind however, recalling most of them with a remarkable accuracy.

 

When the fifth song begins she rises to her feet, circumventing the bed, and stopping in front of Dorcas to offer out her hand. The redhead looks up at her curiously, then shoots a quick glance at her Sisters, but Sabrina doesn't wait for them to give any kind of permission before pulling the girl to her feet.

 

Sabrina guides her to the middle of the floor, arms sliding behind Dorcas' back as she pulls close, and leads them in slow spinning circles with the song. Head falling to Dorcas' shoulder, Sabrina hums along, smiling at the grin it causes in her partner.

 

“What is this music?” Dorcas asks softly.

 

“Something my friend Susie loves,” Sabrina replies. “Felt very appropriate with the weather.”

 

“It is,” she agrees. “Almost haunting, but... Pretty.”

 

Sabrina presses a kiss against the girl's collarbone.

 

“Like you.”

 

That grin stretches into a smile, and Sabrina is quite proud of herself, when Agatha clears her throat just behind them.

 

“May I cut in?” she asks.

 

Sabrina lifts her head, nodding in agreement, but is genuinely surprised when Agatha slips into her arms rather than Dorcas. A bit taller than the other girl, Sabrina can't quite rest her head on Agatha's shoulder, and keeps it upright instead with their eyes locked together.

 

“You chose Dorcas first,” Agatha comments.

 

Not me, not Prudence is implied but unspoken. Sabrina realizes it's rare for anyone besides Agatha herself to choose Dorcas first.

 

“Out of the three of you,” Sabrina begins. “I knew she wouldn't question my intentions. That she'd play along.”

 

Agatha smiles, warm and genuine, surprising Sabrina yet again when no jealousy manifests itself.

 

“Do you like the song?” Sabrina asks.

 

Agatha nods.

 

“Very somber,” she comments. “Very nice.”

 

Sabrina pulls on Agatha's hand to press a kiss upon the back of it.

 

“Like you,” she offers.

 

Prudence clears her throat behind them, Agatha dropping Sabrina's hands almost immediately and giving up her spot. A sharp breath inhaled, when Prudence presses so close, Sabrina thinks she's going to be kissed then and there. Disappointment when she isn't, but Prudence takes the lead, pulling back and twirling Sabrina in place.

 

“We're supposed to be studying,” Prudence chides quietly.

 

Sabrina ignores the admonishment, guiding their bodies back together, head tilting so that her lips tease along Prudence's ear.

 

_Now I'll love you, always._ She sings. _Even when I say, you distract me._

 

Prudence's hands tighten of their own accord, knowing they're only lyrics, but the sentiment still strikes her.

 

“Simple poetry,” she detracts. “Prosaic and dull.”

 

Sabrina smirks.

 

“Then why are you dancing to it?”

 

Prudence twirls her again, and pulls back with a force that makes Sabrina gasp.

 

“As if I was going to stand idly by while my Sisters got their turn,” she informs.

 

“Why Prudence,” Sabrina teases. “Don't be jealous.”

 

Now Prudence's lips hover along Sabrina's ear.

 

“Simply taking my place,” she informs. “As you do. With us.”

 

Sabrina presses a kiss to Prudence's neck.

 

“Do you even like the song?”

 

Prudence smirks.

 

“I enjoy your enjoyment. And that of my Sisters. That you make them feel as special as we all know you are.”

 

Sabrina nods, and her eyes fall closed, when a kiss is pressed to her cheek.

 

“Sing me the rest,” Prudence requests.

 

_And I'll love you, always. When we leave this place..._

 

Sabrina feels Agatha and Dorcas press against her from behind, Prudence's lips claiming hers, as the song inevitably ends.

 

 


End file.
